


A Little More Personal

by learninghowtosmut



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Hate Sex, I'm Going to Hell, M/M, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 02:26:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8269148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/learninghowtosmut/pseuds/learninghowtosmut
Summary: Tumblr request: Can we have some Spain/England hate-sex? :3Spanish/British empires getting it on.





	

**Author's Note:**

> They're basically fighting each other through this, but both of them want to do it.

Fighting was what they did; as the two biggest empires of the world, it was only natural. Even if it was just their people who fought instead of them, the British and the Spanish empires were always in conflict with each other. And whenever one of them captured the other, the fight was just made a little bit more personal.

Spain’s teeth found the point where England’s shoulder and neck met and he bit down viciously, spitting out the blood that welled up in his mouth. England’s hands were pulling Spain’s hair loose, tugging sharply on the strands.

Neither of them would allow any hint of pain to show on their face. Doing that would be as good as admitting a defeat. 

And then England was shoving Spain against the wall, roughly yanking him around so his cheek was pressed up against it. As the prisoner, the unspoken rule was that he was the one taking it.

Spain still fought to turn the tables, but England caught his arm and twisted it sharply up behind his back to hold him there. After a brief struggle, he accepted it. England still didn’t free his arm as he yanked his captive’s breeches down to his knees. His fingers pushed into Spain’s mouth.

“Suck.” England growled. “Or I’m going in dry.”

No matter how much Spain would have liked to bite them off, he knew how it went. And with the way their rivalry was going, it would only be a few months at the most until he got his chance at revenge.

Spain parted his lips and let the other empire’s short fingers press down on his tongue, a few strands of his hair getting caught in his mouth at the same time. They swirled around and he pushed as much saliva towards them with his tongue as he could; the one time he’d refused to do this had hurt like _hell_.

There seemed to be barely any time between England pulling his fingers out of his mouth and plunging two of them inside him, pushing at the tight muscle. A hiss came out from Spain’s clenched teeth, despite his attempts not to make a single sound. He didn’t want his enemy to have the satisfaction of knowing he could feel pain.

“Almost as tight as a fucking _virgin_ , Spain.”

He could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Who was the last one you lost to? Before me?”

Smug bastard.

“Are you going to fuck me, or just stand there talking?” Spain demanded in a deep growl.

His composure was lost when the fingers inside him jabbed at him, twisting and scissoring.

“If you are going to be like that, then I suppose you don’t want any more of _this_.” He spread his fingers again, his voice a smooth purr.

Insults, England felt, would only cheapen this victory. Especially considering he also won a quiet whine from between Spain’s clenched teeth with the movement.

He spat into his hand and quickly slicked up his dick. This wasn’t out of concern for Spain; any injuries would heal soon enough.

Without warning, he yanked his captive’s hips back and down and slammed inside him, instantly going as deep as he could. His fingers held Spain in place, the nails digging shallow crescents into his skin and drawing red lines when they slipped. England let out a groan at how tight he felt, pausing for only the length of a breath before he began to fuck him almost brutally. He didn’t care one jot about the other empire’s pleasure.

Spain could feel himself being rubbed raw by the friction of England’s cock inside him. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d have to mop up blood, but at least all of his clothes were already ruined by battle. His own length was heavy with blood and half hard between his legs. As much as he wanted to jerk himself off with his free hand, he restrained himself; he wouldn’t give his enemy the pleasure of seeing him come undone like that. Getting himself off would only open him up to taunts about how he was enjoying it. Not that he wouldn’t deserve it; he wouldn’t hesitate to do the same.

The pain spiking through him only made his arousal sharper, especially when England brushed over his prostate. He couldn’t help himself; he ground down onto him and heard a little huff of smugness behind him. England paused his rutting just long enough to murmur a taunt into his ear.

“You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you? You’re no better than the whores on the dock. Maybe I shouldn’t send you back when the filthy pig that is your king wants you returned.” The fingers on his hip slid up to his belly button, and then dragged sharply across his tender belly. “I’ll keep you as a slave, as the empires of old used to do, and use you until you’re nothing but a relentless slut begging for any cock you can get.”

His head fell back and pain flitted over his face as England took his length in his hand and squeezed it tightly. When he recovered, he twisted his head around and spat in the other’s face. England retorted by twisting his arm up higher, until Spain felt like his shoulder was about to pop. He contorted his body to try to reduce the pain, slumping against the wall when the grip was loosened.

Throughout this, England did not stop fucking him. He kept murmuring the same filth in his ear until hot sticky wetness flooded Spain’s ass. He didn’t move, just catching his breath.

“Even after I’ve fucked you like this, you are still so _tight_ …” England breathed, finally letting go and stepping away. As his cock slipped from Spain’s hole, a splatter of cum came with it, dribbling down Spain’s thighs as he stood there, still shaking. England ripped the remains of his captive’s shirt from his body and used it to clean his soft cock off before he threw it back at him, turned around, and left.

The lock turned heavily in the door, and Spain was alone.

His shoulder was sore, he had red lines where England had raked his nails across his skin, and he knew that if he looked down, the cum that was still dripping out of him would be tinted by blood.

And yet he was still hard.

Leaning against the wall, he shuffled over to the bare slab that was to be his bed while he was here. Spain sat down with a wince and carefully peeled his breeches all the way off. He lay down and closed his eyes, hands going to wrap around his cock as he thought about his husband.

Spain could still remember the way the rope had chafed against his wrists when he let Austria bind them up and out of the way. He could easily recall the clean lines of the aristocrat’s throat as his head tipped back in pleasure when he speared himself on Spain’s length.

The cries he had made that day were utterly shameless and, in Spain’s opinion, even better than the music he loved to play. He had given him a coy look that was completely out of place on the face of a man bouncing on a thick cock, and purred something in German.

He came to the image of those glasses flecked with Austria’s own cum, to the softness of his inner thighs, to the memory of the infuriating way he still seemed to be in control with Spain’s cock halfway down his throat.


End file.
